


Apotheosis of the Bunny

by AJs Bunny (agentj)



Category: E.W. Hornung's Raffles series
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, POV First Person, Power Play, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-24
Updated: 2009-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentj/pseuds/AJs%20Bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently discovered, the long lost missing pages of "The Wrong House" as written by Bunny Manders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apotheosis of the Bunny

**Author's Note:**

> Plot? We don't need no stinkin' plot!

> ### Timeframe:
> 
>   
> Ham Common, post-WRON

  


  


> _"By all my gods, Bunny, it's been the most sporting night we ever had in our lives! And do you know which was the most sporting part of it?"_
> 
> "That up-hill ride?"
> 
> "I wasn't thinking of it."
> 
> "Turning your torch into a truncheon?"
> 
> "My dear Bunny! A gallant lad—I hated hitting him."
> 
> "I know," I said. "The way you got us out of the house!"
> 
> "No, Bunny," said Raffles, blowing rings. "It came before that, you sinner, and you know it!"
> 
> "You don't mean anything I did?" said I, self-consciously, for I began to see that this was what he did mean. And now at latest it will also be seen why this story has been told with undue and inexcusable gusto; there is none other like it for me to tell; it is my one ewe-lamb in all these annals. But Raffles had a ruder name for it.
> 
> "It was the Apotheosis of the Bunny," said he, but in a tone I never shall forget.

My hand clasped his, and Raffles's eye beamed down upon me with a knowing glance that spoke more than just his hearty approval of our nightly adventure. His lips, wrapped round the silver paper of his Sullivan, curled in that way I knew so well.

Raffles had a singular obsession which I could never quite fathom, but I had grown fond of over our years together. Cradling my hand in his, he brought it up to his delectable lips. Plucking the Sullivan from his mouth, Raffles slowly blew the smoke against my wrist. He watched the blue smoke curl round my skin as if it were a silken garment that slithered across my form. My own breath hitched with anticipation, for then his mouth opened, and I could see the plane of his tongue just inside before he bowed his head, his mouth pressed against pinnacle of my pulse.

I shuddered at the simple sinful sensations Raffles knew so well how to divulge upon me. He laid not one hand on my person, but the warm silken reverberations of his tongue and mouth drove me into escalations of ecstasy. A moan must have passed my lips, for I felt Raffles's mouth spread upon my wrist into a broad smile. His soft laughter trickled down my arm like the soothing babble of a brook. My heart, pounding as it had from both our lengthy excursion as well as our near-miss that evening, leapt for wholly another reason altogether as he laid his head into the palm of my hand and looked appreciatively upon me.

His Sullivan smoldered between his fingers as he moved them to caress the side of my face. I have spoken often of Raffles's incredible dexterity, his undeniable coolness of control, and delicacy of touch upon any lock known to man. What I have not said was his inexplicable knowledge how to use his tactile gifts to illicit the most passionate responses from deep inside me. The most tender of touches across my brow would send me into convulsions. Only Raffles knew how to brush his fingertips over my jaw and neck until I was breathless with desire.

Eventually his fingers found their way to my lips, Sullivan and all. I felt his palm turn itself toward me, guiding his cigarette, still moist from the taste of his mouth, into my own. I drew a long drag from it as I peered back at him through the haze.

Blue smoke began to wisp from my lips when he pulled the cigarette away, but as it had been anticipated, Raffles quickly bent down and put his mouth over mine, sucking the precious vapours from my body before they could escape.

And that, as you can well imagine, was the end of polite conversation between us. For I knew his body as much as he knew mine, and never in these last days together did we waste a moment to revel in our knowledge of each other.

Somewhere in the tussle, we had lost the Sullivan along with a various assortment of clothing. We did, however, manage to find the horsehair sofa, and I inexplicably re-discovered my courage that I had so willingly put aside when Raffles had asserted himself during the night's performance.

"Oh, Bunny!" cried Raffles with a delighted light in his eye when he found himself pinned against the couch.

"Shut up!" I whispered tightly, my bare knee between his naked legs. My hands pushed his shoulders down until his head struck the arm of the couch with an audible ejaculation from him. At first my eyes widened at the horror that I had hurt my Raffles, but instead of a grimace or a growl, I was rewarded with the sincerest look of vulnerability I had ever seen on Raffles's face, and the blackness of his pupils nearly pushed away all colour in his eyes.

I knew then what I wanted. What I took from Raffles that night I never had the opportunity to take again. But believe me when I say that I would willingly do so again and anon until the end of time if only to have my Raffles for ever by my side.

My arm came down on him again, this time for a handful of curls that were rightly mine. Though the rich inky blackness had been bled from them by his misdeeds, that which was left was mine and no other. Raffles gasped, "What are you doing, Bunny?"

I pressed my face close to his. "I said shut up," I returned his tone as my hips bucked possessively against his.

To that, Raffles's only answer was a hitched sigh and an attempt to return the same to me.

"Be still!" I commanded, tightening my grip on his hair. Feeling Raffles's body shudder beneath me fed my insatiable insanity. I moved my hips against him again, feeling the pulse that grew between us. I knew there was only one balm that would quell the madness inside me, and to-night I would not allow anything to deny it to me.

In order to sit up, I had to let go of my grip on him, but my eyes fixed themselves upon him most sternly as I manoeuvred myself to straddle him. His hands wandered to my hips, but I took them in hand and clasped them tight as I leaned back and felt his thick, hard prick curving deliciously against my buttocks.

Raffles watched me intently, his jaw set as if he were biting back his tongue from speaking. Was it anger reflected in his eyes? Or desire? In that moment, they looked one and the same to me.

Now I had command of Raffles's body. I felt drunk with power. Locking his eyes again with mine, I made him touch me. My fingers wrapped round his wrists as I guided them down my chest. I made him use his tactile talents where I willed. At my command, Raffles's fingers flitted over each mole and freckle, every defect my skin possessed until I wept at the beauty of it.

Then I guided his hands to reach behind me and part the ways. I made him touch me there as I shifted over him, my eyes daring him to take what he will of me in our precarious position. His gaze matched mine in ferocity, and he worked his fingers and palms into me until I was burning from the heat of it.

That was when I took what I wanted of my Raffles, a thing I had wanted from no other. I took his hand in mine and swathed it with my tongue, wrist to palm to tip. Perhaps not as delicately as Raffles would have done. Perhaps without the sensualness that he possessed. Perhaps not even with the passion that would have driven me wild with the same ministrations, but when I was done, I made him put his hand upon my back again, I made him stroke me there until it was as moist and weeping as the tip of my prick.

I pressed my back against his member until I felt the bulging head press against my entrance. I pressed again and anon, rocking my body over his until I could no longer determine what was his and what was mine. For now Raffles was within me, and I was Raffles, and we were one and the same.

Was it he who rocked against my lover, or was it I who thrust himself deep within? Hands and limbs and breath and sound collided. There was a tightness here and a fullness there until the devil let loose and released us both.

I remember laying across Raffles's languid form, sharing a Sullivan that he had somehow managed to fish out of an article of clothing without lifting more than an arm or finger from the couch. His fingertips touched my brow, bookending the evening with his delicate touch.

"By Jove, Bunny," said he in low, soothing tones, "if that is how one is rewarded for worshiping at the feet of a rabbit, let me be duly converted!"


End file.
